


Horns That Hold a Crown

by AbsinthexMind



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Arranged Marriage, Attraction, Doubt, F/M, Fear, Forced Marriage, Forced Relationship, Kings & Queens, Letters, Mental Instability, Reader-Insert, Self-Doubt
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-14
Updated: 2018-08-14
Packaged: 2019-06-27 13:31:10
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,816
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15686394
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AbsinthexMind/pseuds/AbsinthexMind
Summary: The only daughter of Steffon Baratheon, and to Aerys you were th eonly suitable bride for his son Rhaegar. Your previokus engagement to Ned Stark was broken. Now you found yourself the bride of a dragon instead that of a wolf.





	Horns That Hold a Crown

The proposal caught Steffon Baratheon completely off guard. 

“E-Excuse me your Grace?” 

King Aerys rolls his pale lilac eyes. “You heard me. You have a daughter don’t you? Targaryen blood in the Baratheon family may be diluted but it’s still there. Enough so that I can marry Rhaegar to your daughter.” 

He probably should’ve felt honor yet all Steffon could feel was apprehension coiling in his gut. In the past years the king’s mental health had fallen in a rapid decline that worried his court. The last thing he wanted to do was put his only daughter in harm’s way. True that Rhaegar Targaryen was an upstanding young man that any maid would want to marry, but that would mean his little girl would be near the king’s madness. 

That and he had already betrothed her to Eddard Stark, the second son of Rickard Stark. 

He couldn’t just say no to the King of Westeros though. Otherwise he might meet his death with wildfire. 

Steffon keeps his expression calm as he bows to his king. “Of course your Grace. I shall send arrangements right away.” 

_‘Forgive me (y/n).’_   
  
  
*   
  
  


“A letter from father?” You eagerly grab the rolled up piece of parchment from the retainer. 

Renly hops around you trying to get at it. “What does it say (y/n)?” 

“It says your an impatient little brat that needs to learn self-control.” Light heartedly you tease him. Renly grins cheekily and holds onto your arm. You break the wax seal and begin to read. The lower you get through the page the more your smile vanishes. 

“What’s wrong?” Renly asks noticing your widened eyes. 

“I’m. . . “I’m to marry Rhaegar Targaryen.” All the breath leaves you, your father’s letter fluttering to the ground where your little brother picks it up. 

He scrunches his nose. “That can’t be right. You’re betrothed to Ned Stark. How could father forget that?” 

Limply you sit down on a stone bench that was provided in the courtyard of Storm’s End castle. You felt your head go light as you try not to faint. “I don’t think he forgot Renly.” 

There was further confusion on his face. “I don’t understand. You’re supposed to marry Ned.” 

Biting your lip you pull Renly beside you. “Things change Renly. If this is the King’s will then of course father has to obey and break my engagement to Ned. It would be best for our family too I suppose. Marrying Rhaegar would mean some day I would be queen.” 

At that Renly’s eyes sparkle. “Yeah! That is a lot better than marrying some northern lord!” 

You wished you could share your brother’s enthusiasm. It wasn’t like you loved the fiance you had now. Ned Stark hardly smiled and he was as cold as his northern land. Something just didn’t settle right with you though. 

Queen. 

Someday you would be a queen. 

Was that what made you feel queasy? Any other girl would kill for the title of Rhaegar’s queen. You however would’ve been happy enough to live out your days in the north where the only fear they had was wildlings and winter. Unlike King’s Landing where they played the dangerous game of thrones. A game where everyone is your enemy and if you make one small slip it could very well cost you your life. You didn’t want to live in constant fear. What kind of life would that be if you were constantly looking over your shoulder and unable to eat anything because it could be poisoned. You would be like King Aerys. Was being ruler of all the seven kingdoms really worth his sanity? You didn’t think so. 

The news ultimately spread quickly throughout Storm’s End about your betrothal to the crown prince and how you would be traveling to King’s Landing by order of your father. To seal the deal and for your soon-to-be husband to see you. 

Renly wanted to badly to go with you, but your mother insisted that he stay with your older brother Stannis. The two didn’t get along well; then again Stannis didn’t really get along with anyone. 

Before Renly could throw a fit you calmed him down. “I’ll send for you when the time comes. I promise.” 

“Don’t take too long.” Renly simpers and gives you a great big hug. 

“I love you Renly. Behave for Stannis and the maesters.” 

You turn to said brother as he awkwardly shifts from one foot to the other before deciding a simple pat on the shoulder would suffice. “Make our family proud (y/n).” 

It was the best you could expect from Stannis. “Take care Stannis.”   
  
  
*   
  
  


Rhaegar stared at his father incredulously. “(y/n) Baratheon? But she’s betrothed to-” 

“She was betrothed to Ned Stark, but now she’s betrothed to you. She has Targaryen blood in her. Even if it’s diluted it’s still something. Far too valuable to be mingling with some low lord of the north.” Aerys waves off his son’s concern. “You need a bride with a pedigree worthy enough to bear you an heir. And since your mother has failed to give birth to a daughter, (y/n) will have to do.” 

“Surely the Starks will see this as a slight. . .” Relationships were already very fragile concerning his father. They didn’t need enemies in the north. 

He laughs bitterly. “They’ll do whatever I say!” Aerys’ gnarly fingers that possessed ever growing nails, wrap around his goblet’s stem as he moves the rim to his lips. 

Uneasiness settled in Rhaegar’s stomach like a heavy stone. His father’s disregard for others concerned him greatly as the king spiraled down into his madness. 

“It’s about time you got married.” His father grumbles and takes a deep sip. “She’s the best bride we’ll ever find for you. Tywin has offered up his daughter Cersei, but lets face it. He is my servant. I can’t have my servant’s daughter marrying the heir to the throne. Then there’s that Dornish princess.” He scoffs at that. “Dornish. How insulting. Yes, (y/n) is the best one out there. The Baratheons are a hardy line. She will produce many sons for you. Strong sons. Perhaps even a daughter.” 

Rhaegar didn’t argue. He was indeed at the age where young lords were expected to be married. It was a little bit more difficult marrying him off though considering that he would one day rule Westeros. 

Still, he didn’t like the idea of taking someone else’s bride. He didn’t know Eddard Stark at all. But he knew how prideful the Starks were. He knew how stuck to tradition they were. Maybe Ned loved (y/n). Rhaegar didn’t know. 

He wondered what kind of lady that his bride to be was. He’d never met her before but he had met Steffon Baratheon. The man obviously cared deeply for his daughter. His only daughter. This must not have been easy for him to do. Rhaegar knew that Steffon must’ve been extremely hesitant to do so. Even with the prospect of marrying into royalty, who in their right mind would want to subject their daughter to Aerys? ~   
  
  


There were no expectations when (y/n) Baratheon’s ship docked in Blackwater Bay. Rhaegar had wanted to go and meet her there but his father had scoffed at the idea and wanted his son to stay put in the Red Keep. They would come to him, not the other way around. So Rhaegar stay put, tapping his foot incessantly and and pacing around the throne room to keep his nerves at bay. This was after all the woman he’d be spending the rest of his life with. The woman who would give him children. Someone he’d have to protect from the long winter that was to come. The long winter that he had read, one that made him become a warrior prince. The Starks were right that winter was indeed coming. He’d be ready for it though. He’d make sure (y/n) was ready too. 

Finally Rhaegar spotted the Baratheon stags that were embroidered onto every banner that was closing in on the Keep. The entourage spilled into the Great Hall where the Iron Throne was kept. Up on it was King Aerys, as withered as ever. His eyes narrowed as he watches the stags fill up the hall. There next to Steffon Baratheon stood his daughter (y/n). Rhaegar felt a small breath exalt from his body as she stepped forward with her father, head held high and deep blue eyes meeting Rhaegar’s immediately. She held herself with pride and confidence but in those mesmerizing eyes of her’s Rhaegar found a little bit of hesitation. Of uncertainty. 

Women like that normally tried to hold the air of being hard, but not (y/n). A soft smile that made Rhaegar feel like a blushing maiden. It brought a new light to her. Yes she was confident but she was also gentle and reassuring. Whatever doubts she had about Rhaegar, he was now determined to rid her of them. It was the strength and softness Rhaegar found in her rich blue eyes. 

Even though he felt bad for taking Ned Stark’s bride, Rhaegar no longer worried too much about the northern man.   
  
*   
  
  
  


The meeting had gone well, at least that’s what you had thought. You congratulated yourself for not cringing away from Aerys as he looked at you with such eery eyes. They no longer possessed the between that his son and wife had. The whites were tinged with red agitation, telltale signs of his lack of sleep. Luckily he didn’t stay to talk for too long. He only saw you and your father out of duty. That was fine by you. The sooner the Mad King was out of your sight, the better. You found yourself pitying the beautiful Rhaella. She deserved better than Aerys. 

You spoke few words with your future husband before you were carted away to your room. Those few minutes that you spent with Rhaegar had you understanding why so many maidens would kill to be in your position. He was as handsome as the stories said he was and had such a soft baritone that was pleasing to your ears. He could be speaking normally and still sound like he was singing. His voice had that beautiful lilting quality to it that had you shedding away all of your tiredness from travel. 

This was the man you were to marry. You would be his queen. Bear his heirs and such. The continuation of the Targaryen family would rest entirely on your shoulders. If you failed. . . If you failed it would not only be shameful to the Targaryens but to the Baratheons as well. So much hope was being put into you. Not that your father cared one bit about the elevation of his status, but all the others did. That was something you never had to worry about with marry Ned. Your union would’ve been a simple one and you would’ve been free to live out your days peacefully in Winterfell. If you were being honest with yourself that was all you had ever wanted. You cared not for extravagances; you would be content enough with a man who respected you and made sure that you and your children would always be taken care of. 

All the extra stuff you would be getting with Rhaegar was more than you would ever ask for. It sent you into a slight panic as you pressed your burning forehead to the cool windowpane that provided your room with the gentle glow of the sun setting. This whole entire city would be your’s. All of Westeros would be your’s too. 

If you failed to be a good queen, what would happen to you? If you failed to provide Rhaegar a son, what would happen? The only answer you could come up with was death. Of course just from your first meeting with him you knew Rhaegar wasn’t the kind of man to kill his wife over not having sons. At least that’s what you tried to tell yourself. You had no idea what kind of man he truly was except for the stories you had been told of him and so far they match up to what you have seen. 

People could be quite good at lying though. 

You groan when you realize you had been biting your nails. It was a nasty habit you had picked up when you were a young child and had stuck with you. You often did it during times of immense stress and anxiety. Your mother would always scold you when she caught you. It was quite unladylike but you couldn’t help it even when your septa would slap your fingers with a stick. 

Pulling your hands away from your mouth you go about to pacing around your room. You were in King’s Landing, so now what? Just wait until the wedding ceremony? 

A knock to your door made you nearly jump out of your skin. 

“Who is it?” 

“Rhaegar.” You could practically hear his smile in his voice. 

You quickly composed yourself before answering the door. “Your Grace, how can I help you?” 

He waves off the use of his title. “None of that is necessary. We’ll be married, remember? Anyway I was wondering if you would come and join me in a little stroll before supper. I can show you around the Keep so you can familiarize yourself.” 

Fresh air sounded like the best idea to you. You eagerly left with Rhaegar and let him lead you through the castle, showing you each corridor and where they lead, where so and so had once lived, and out into the courtyard. You found yourself rid of your anxiety after he had showed you the first few floors of the Keep. Now you felt at ease by his side. The two of you had been sharing anecdotes of your childhood and the friends you had made through the years. 

Rhaegar sent a stableboy away when the two of you made it to the stables. The smell of hay was a welcoming scent. He introduced you to the many horses that his family possessed as if they were actual people. 

He lowers his voice as he pats at the neck of a reddish horse. “This one here is my particular favorite. Say hello to Kvothe.” 

“Kvothe? That’s an odd name.” Regardless you curtsy to the horse making Rhaegar smile. You found yourself adoring that smile more and more. 

“I’m happy you’re relaxed now.” 

You lift your head up. “What makes you think I wasn’t relaxed before?” 

Rhaegar shrugs and goes to give Kvothe a carrot. Giant teeth clamp down on the poor vegetable. “I didn’t know at first. I suspected that you were a little wary of your new surroundings which is completely understandable. You held yourself well in front of the court. Proud and strong, just like any good queen. When I went to your room though your body language told me that you weren’t exactly relaxed with the idea of being here.” 

“It did take a lot out of me being there with so many people.” You confessed. “I don’t know how I’m gonna keep it up for the rest of my life. Pretending I’m a good candidate to be queen.” 

He furrowed his brows and looked away from his horse. “Are you worried about that?” 

You lean back against a pillar that separated the stable stalls. “Of course I am. I’m going to be queen of seven kingdoms! Not one, seven! I’m gonna have to go in front of crowds on a daily basis.” 

Pursing his lips, he scoots over so that he’s standing next to you, his hip bumping into your side. “If it makes you feel any better you won’t be alone in it. I’ll be with you. We’re gonna rule together.” 

That did make you feel better. Through all your imagenings you had forgotten about Rhaegar. You weren’t alone in this. 

“And for what it’s worth I think you’ll make a wonderful queen. It wasn’t a show you were putting on earlier. That’s who you are inside. Strong and confident. You’ll find your footing, given time.” The silver strands of his hair caught and absorbed the vibrant orange that filled the air as the sun died behind the mountains. 

You hide your blush with a smile. “But what is a doe compared to a dragon?” 

The most beautiful fingers you have ever seen reach out for your (h/c) hair and gently tucks it behind your ear. If it were anyone else you would’ve told them not to touch you. But you wanted Rhaegar to touch you. You wanted to feel his palm on your cheek and his lips against your’s. “A pretty doe like you would look even better with a crown on her head than a dragon ever would.”


End file.
